


The Call

by Assan_Mahariel



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Circus, F/M, Murder Mystery, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assan_Mahariel/pseuds/Assan_Mahariel
Summary: Cats have been disappearing. Two strays team up to find out why.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15
Collections: be_compromised AU Exchange 2020





	The Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlphaFlyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaFlyer/gifts).



Clint was careful not to end up like the body at the bottom of the ravine. He climbed down on careful paws, hopping down onto the damp but dry riverbed soon enough, flecking his blond fur with specks of the mud as he did so.

  
He narrowed his eyes at the sight before him, and scowled as he sniffed the dead cat. A brown tom, cold from death, and wet from what little of the river had survived the dry summer.

  
Clint backed away from the body, ears pressed back against his head as he bit back a rumbling growl. After a moment, he inched back, and lowered his head to press his nose against the grayfur's fur. He was motionless for a moment, silent in honor of his mentor. The old tom hadn't been the kindest Scrapper, but he'd been the father that Clint hadn't gotten to have, and he'd saved him from Jacques wrath several times before.

  
He turned his attention to the cat's final resting place. The area was littered with pieces of dirt and rocks, settled on the ground like snow in winter, but the only extra dirt was underneath the grayfur. A fall, then. Upon closer inspection, Clint found that Buck had another cat's fur caught in his claws; Clint pulled some free, hooking it with a claw and sniffing the dark strands, but was unable to get a scent other than the reek of death and the damp sludge of the mud.

  
Dried blood caked the fur of Buck's neck, but not enough to have killed him. No, old no-tail Buck had died from the fall, and Clint wasn't looking forward to reporting this to his brother.

  
Buck had obviously fought back, but hadn't been able to land on his feet. Clint knew how tough of an opponent Buck was, so either the old tom had been taken by surprise, or his opponent had been even tougher. The unnatural angle of his neck and of two of his legs was enough to tell Clint that the tom couldn't have died from the attack, considering the lack of new marks.

  
This was the third cat to disappear this month, and the only one that had been found. Seeing the state of Buck, Clint wasn't left with much hope. This had gone from a missing cat search to a body hunt, and he would bet his next meal on it.

  
Clint hated tracking down bodies. And a murderer on top of it all? Even worse.

  
The sound of falling rubble filled the ravine, something landing with a thump behind him. Clint jumped, his fur sticking up as he whipped around to face the newcomer.

  
She was a she-cat, mostly red with splotches of black, her long fur glossy and well cared for. She didn't seem ready to attack, so Clint relaxed the slightest bit.

  
Clint scented the air, huffing the air back out again. Her scent was unfamiliar. A Collared, a Thrower pet, based on how well taken care of she looked. But what was a Collared doing all the way down here?

  
The cat hopped the rest of the way down from her perch on a rocky outcrop that was embedded in the dirt wall of the ravine, her tail curled up in greeting. Clint relaxed, but didn't let his guard down even as he lifted his own tail in greeting as well.

  
The Collared was clearly well cared for. Although she was lean, her body looked as if he had never known true hunger, nor felt the wet coldness of rain or snow soaking into her bones. Soft. She flicked an amused ear, as if she could guess what Clint was thinking.

  
Clint shifted, puffing his chest a bit to hide his own battle-worn body. His short blond fur barely covered his bony frame well enough to hide his state, but it never hurt to put on a strong front, and Clint was anything but weak. The Scrapper group he ran with had taught him better than to show weakness, even to a Collared she-cat.

  
"What brings a Collared to the bottom of the ravine?" He asked her.

  
"Same as you, I suppose-" the cat passed Clint and sniffed the dead cat herself- "the body. The mystery. The case. You seem fascinated by it. So am I. It's not often that something exciting happens here anymore."

  
"Case?"

  
"Yes. And you're going to solve his murder, I'm guessing?"

  
Clint had to stop himself from flicking his tail in amusement.

  
"What case? Scrappers get into fights all of the time. This cat was old for a Scrapper. Is it that surprising that he would bite off more than he could chew? A younger cat overpowering the grayfur and tossing him off of the bridge. Simple. Done and shut. No need for you to be sticking your pretty nose in."

  
The cat spared him an exasperated glance.

  
"Scrappers fight, yes, but they rarely kill each other. And what would the use be in killing an old tomcat? He's past his prime, probably couldn't even hunt for himself all that well. Relied on garbage, I would guess, or ran with one of the big clans of Scrappers running around town."

  
Clint couldn't keep his tail still this time. "You're right. His name was Buck. Everyone called him No-Tail Buck, but never to his face. Without his tail, he wouldn't have gotten his feet under him, and I guess that it was the landing that killed him. You said you came across a second body?"

  
"A she-cat, gray tabby, maybe a bit of ragdoll in her," the Collared said. "Ring any bells?"

  
The description matched with one of the other two missing cats. "Yes. Sounds like Banshee. How did you come across her?"

  
"Floating in the human dam. Caused quite the fuss."

  
Clint scowled, his tail waving furiously now. "Where is the body now?"

  
"The humans took her, but I don't know where," the she-cat said.

  
"Helpful," Clint said. "I'm Clint."

  
She stared at him for a long and silent minute.

  
"Nathalie," she finally said, after he said nothing more. "Why does this matter to you?"

  
"I'm more confused as to why it matters to you," he said. "Why does a Collared give a damn about what's happening to Scrappers?"

  
"None of your business, I would think."

  
"Well, they're cats from my clan," he said. "But.. if we're both looking into it, then why don't we team up?"

  
She couldn't keep the distaste from her expression. Clint knew what she was probably thinking: a Scrapper and a Collared working together on a Scrapper matter?

  
But these were cats that Clint knew. Some he had grown up with. Survived with. They may have been assholes, but they were his assholes. He wasn't going to miss the chance to stop more of them from being killed, and the Collared wasn't sore on the eyes, either.

  
"It couldn't hurt, I suppose," she said. "Very well, Scrapper, I'll clan up for the investigation."

  
He followed her out of the ravine, surprised at how easily she scaled her way back up to the bridge. Maybe the she-cat was tougher than her soft fur first made her seem.

  
"Alright, Clint," she said. "What do you know so far?"

  
"Three cats missing, two confirmed to be dead," he said. "Banshee and Buck are dead, which leaves Jacques still missing."

  
"But probably dead?"

  
"Exactly," Clint said. "And all I have so far is that they have brown fur, which doesn't narrow it down."

  
"And they're clever," she said. "Clever and out for revenge against these specific cats."

  
"Revenge?"

  
"They planned these, obviously," Nathalie said. "All we have to do is figure out why, and who. We've already singled it down to everyone with brown fur in your clan."

  
"Mine?"

  
She gave him a 'duh' expression.

  
"Who else would know them better than those in their own Scrapper clan?" She pointed out. "So take me to your clan, and we'll go from there."

  
Clint flicked his ears and lashed his tail.

  
"Take a Collared into a Scrapper group?"

  
The she-cat rolled her eyes and shook herself, ruffling her fur. She moved off of the bridge and rolled in the dirt. By the time she was done, her once glossy fur was dirty.

  
"There," she meowed. "Now you'll be taking a Scrapper into a Scrapper group."

  
"Whatever you say, princess."

  
"Nathalie."

  
"Whatever you say, Nathalie."

  
She followed after him as he started off, keeping pace with his run, but he was pretty sure he heard the words 'insufferable' in whatever she muttered under her breath.

  
He led her to the circus where his group resided, careful to avoid the Throwers that were running about. Someone was lurking near where the Scrapper group had set up shop in the clearing near the field the circus had set up their tents, but Clint relaxed when he recognized the ringmaster's Collared.

  
"Tony-" Clint raised his tail in greeting, and after a moment the brown tom did the same, the metallic blue bell on his red and gold collar ringing as he turned towards the pair- "what are you doing out here?"

  
The brown american curl cat limped over to them, small ears tilted forward.

  
"Clint," Tony greeted. "And pretty stranger."

  
"Nathalie," Nathalie said.

  
"This is Tony," Clint said. "He's the ringmaster's Collared, but we let him stick around. Don't get him started on his three pedigrees."

  
"Pedigree," Tony corrected. "I have three best in show first place awards, thank you."

  
"Obviously you weren't the best, considering you're here," Nathalie said.

  
Tony glared at her, and lashed his tail.

  
"I was best in show before a group of humans calling themselves the Three Rings put a permanent end to my career-" he waved his useless front right paw and puffed out his scarred and bare of fur chest- "after that, I wasn't good enough for the Stark family, and now I live here."

  
"We catch the mice and rats, and he gets the credit," Clint said. "In return, he uses that big brain of us to keep us at the top of the food chain and keep the other Scrappers off of us."

  
"Steve helps," Tony said. "You'd have been chased off by rival Scrappers if not for that oaf."

  
"Steve?" Nathalie asked.

  
"A big blonde maine coone," Tony said. "He's the other one that Fury keeps around. Insufferable half the time."

  
"And one of Tony's best friends, besides Bruce and his adopted kit, Peter, but Tony just likes to bitch a lot," Clint clarified. "But you don't usually come around until after the sun sets, Tony, so what's going on?"

  
"What's going on? What's going on is that Thor just pulled his brother out from under the bonfire. Bruce is checking them both over to make sure they'll survive their burns. Someone must have gotten Loki right over the head, cause he's more dazed than a bird that ran into glass. Wasn't even yowling, the dumbass, but Steve managed to spot one of his paws sticking out near the bottom of the sticks."

  
Clint bit back a nasty remark. If Loki perished, it was no sweat off of his back.

  
"We found someone named Buck at the bottom of the ravine," Nathalie said. "And a she-cat named Banshee in the dam. Both dead. Both murdered."

  
She glanced at Clint, who only offered her a shrug.

  
The red she-cat rolled her eyes.

  
"Thinking it might be revenge," she said. "This seems to fit. Let me guess, Loki is an asshole?"

  
"Pretty much," Clint said. "The only reason he hasn't been kicked out is because his dad was the last leader of the clan."

  
"But burnt to death? That's a little extreme, even for that prick," Clint said. "What do you think, Nathalie?"

  
"Me?"

  
"What other Nathalie do I know? You've gotten us this far, haven't you?"

  
The she-cat blinked, her surprise disappearing so quickly that Clint was almost sure he might have imagined it.

  
"So what, you guys are playing Holmes and Watson?" Tony asked. "Sounds like it'll end hilariously."

  
"Shut up, Tony," Clint said. "So what next, Nat?"

  
"Nat?…Nevermind. The killer's going to want to finish him off, especially since it's probably a cat in your group."

  
"Wait, the psycho is one of you guys?" Tony asked. "Now this I've gotta see."

  
"Just stay out of the way, Tony," Nathalie said. "Clint, where is this Bruce guy supposed to be?"

  
Clint led his new trio towards where the doc had set up. The dark brown short-furred tom didn't look up when they crawled under the area he'd set up below the tiger cages, focused on the motionless black tom below his paws, while the large golden tom called Thor lit up as he saw them.

  
"Anthony! Clinton! You have both returned safely!" Thor yowled.

  
"He's loud," Clint warned.

  
"Thanks for the heads up," Nat snarked.

  
"No problem."

  
Thor stumbled up to his feet, his golden muzzle smudged with soot. Loki only wheezed.

  
"Down-" Bruce ordered, shoving Thor back down- "you just breathed in a bunch of smoke."

  
"Bruce has been very helpful!" Thor said. "He has given us the most delicious of Thrower foods, a golden nectar called honey!"

  
"Cool, Thor," Clint said. "Bruce, is Loki going to pull through? I'm fine with a no."

  
"Fuck off, Clinton," Loki rasped. "Come to finish me off? How much you lower the intelligence of the room with your very entrance should do the trick all by itself."

  
"And it speaks!" Clint said.

  
Nathalie smacked him with her tail.

  
"You must be Loki-" she purred her words, ignoring Clint's baffled expression, and walked forward, tail up and softly swaying- "you must be so brave, to have gone through such a thing."

  
The black tom only glared at her.

  
"I'm not an idiot. Playing sweet won't trick me," he rasped. "What do you want?"

  
Nathalie flicked an ear, her tail lowering.

  
"What happened," she said. "Who did this. That's what I want."

  
Loki bared his teeth.

  
"Fuck off and go bother someone else," he said.

  
"Clint?"

  
Clint turned, surprised to see Barney crawling in, and felt a headache already forming. They'd been closer as kits, but Barney had grown colder over the years, caring more about the group than his own little brother. Clint immediately felt guilty for thinking it; of course the group was more important. Barney was their leader, now.

  
His big brother glanced over the cats present, then looked over Thor and Loki, scrunching his nose as he did so.

  
"Barney," Clint said. "We found Buck and Banshee. Someone murdered them."

  
"Murder?" Barney asked. "Scrappers disappear or die all the time. How can you be sure it was murder?"

  
"We-"

  
"-may have been mistaken," Nathalie interrupted.

  
Clint glanced at the she-cat, but she was still staring at Loki. Slowly, she turned to look towards Barney.

  
"I hear they weren't very well liked anyways," she said. "Good riddance, I suppose."

  
Clint almost asked her what she was on about, but chose not to open his mouth.

  
Barney didn't answer Nathalie.

  
"How are they?" he asked instead.

  
"They'll pull through," Bruce said. "They got lucky. They both did."

  
"Good," Barney said. "How soon will they be road ready? The circus will be moving soon."

  
"We might have to hide them away in a trailer," Bruce said. "Thor should be fine enough in an hour or two, but Loki breathed in a lot of smoke."

  
"I'll get him moved, then," Barney said. "You three, help Bruce with Thor. The more paws on deck, the faster he'll be up."

  
"That's not how that works," Bruce said.

  
"And last I checked, I led this group," Barney hissed.

  
"I'll help," Nathalie said, before things could escalate.

  
"Fine," Barney said. "I'll grab his scruff. Support him on the other side."

  
Together, the two cats got Loki up. The black tom said nothing, not even trying to help them by trying to walk along.

  
Thor seemed worried to see his brother go, but Tony assured the large tom that everything would be fine. Clint glanced back the way Nathalie and his brother had gone. His chest felt tight. Worried. But he shouldn't worry.

  
"I'll… I'll be right back," Clint said. "I'm going to go help them."

  
"I'm sure they can manage," Tony said. "Reindeer Game's not in any shape to cause any trouble."

  
"I know," Clint said. "It's not Loki that I'm worried about."

  
Clint crawled out from under the trailer, the tiger within not bothering to raise her head. Sometimes she paced, sometimes she simply laid there and looked defeated, and always Clint wished there was a way that he could help her.

  
The great cat lifted her head as he scented the air. He looked towards her, and she turned her head, staring off towards the trees along the nearby river.

  
"I'll bring you back something moving," he promised her.

  
She said nothing, and lowered her head back onto her paws.

  
Promising himself to bring her a rat later, Clint took off towards the grove of trees. He could smell the trail in the air soon enough, and followed it through the underbrush along the widening river.

  
He could hear yowling ahead, a loud screech that rang through the air. Clint took off faster, recognising his brother's voice over the growing roar of water.

  
He leaped over a bramblebush and landed along the bank. Ahead, Nathalie had his brother pinned, teeth bared and readying for the killing bite. Loki laid nearby, panting and watching the fight in silence.

  
Clint moved, tackling the red she-cat off of his brother, unsure of if he managed out of skill or out of surprise attacking her. The two rolled, barely stopping near the rocks by the waterfall, and ended with Clint's teeth buried in her scruff, keeping her down as best he could.

  
Barney rolled back to his feet, brown flank heaving. He bared his fangs.

  
"Kill her!" Barney ordered.

  
Clint hesitated.

  
"He killed them," Nat whispered. "He murdered them. He fits, Clint."

  
"Clint!" Barney yowled. "Kill the she-cat!"

  
Clint glanced up at his brother. His big brother. His only family left. Could his brother really have killed them? Could Clint honestly believe his brother capable of such a thing?

  
With a sickening spike of dread, Clint realised that he could.

  
"What are you doing, Clint? I ordered you to kill her! She just tried to kill me!"

  
Clint glanced at Nathalie. He didn't know her, did he? Not really. He knew Barney. Had grown up with Barney.

  
Clint closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.

  
He had his orders.

  
And so he made a different call.

  
Her surprise took longer to disappear this time, when he let go of her, and she stared up at him with her eyes wide in disbelief, ears flat against her head.

  
Clint wasn't sure what she was. She was too capable to be a Collared. Too put together to be a Scrapper. She wasn't either. All he knew was that she was Nathalie, a cat he'd barely known a day. But he knew Barney. And what knew about Barney allowed him to trust this she-cat over him.

  
"No," Clint said.

  
Barney stared at him.

  
"What do you mean no?" Barney hissed. "Kill her, Clint!"

  
"You killed them," Clint said. "Didn't you?"

  
"Of course I did," Barney said. "Jacques was dangerous and violent. Banshee tried to turn us away when we tried to join the group when we were kits. And Loki irritates me, always acting so high and mighty all the damn time."

  
"And Buck?"

  
"Buck was a fool," Barney said. "He was getting old. Any cat unable to pull their own weight doesn't deserve a place in the clan, and he couldn't understand that."

  
"He was a father to us!"

  
"He was a tool," Barney hissed. "He would have taken my place! They all would have! He was planning on becoming a Collared, planning on abandoning the clan!"

  
"They were part of our clan!"

  
"The individuals don't matter," Barney snarled. "All that matters is that I finally matter, I will make us the greatest Scrapper clan, and they weren’t able to handle it! Now kill her!"

  
"I'm making a different call," Clint said. "The killing stops here, Barney."

  
Barney let out an enraged snarl and lunged.

  
Clint was taken by surprise, too startled by his own brother attacking than to defend himself. The Scrapper flinched, catching Barney's teeth in his shoulder rather than his neck. The two went tumbling from the momentum, over and over until, with horror, Clint rolled into thin air.

  
Teeth closed on his scruff, sharp and painful, and yanked him to a stop before he could go over the side. Barney's claws caught on his hind leg, and Clint screeched at the sudden pain.

  
His brother glanced down, then back up at Clint, his ears flat against his head.

  
"You've always wanted to take my place," Barney accused. "Always."

  
Whoever had caught him grunted. They were sliding, inching down as his savior was slowly dragged towards the edge.

  
"You brought this on yourself," Clint whispered.

  
He lifted his free foot and kicked. Barney yowled as Clint's claws caught him across the face, his claws loosening. Clint kicked again, and his brother finally came free.

  
The weight was gone. They quit sliding.

  
And Barney screamed the whole way down.

  
Clint and the other cat stayed motionless for a minute before the other finally started pulling him back up. He was dragged back over the edge, and let himself collapse into the dirt once he was far enough away from the edge.

  
Nathalie collapsed beside him, twining her tail around his. It was comforting, and he returned the favor.

  
"Natasha," Nathalie said.

  
"Huh?"

  
"My name is Natasha."

  
Clint smiled at her.

  
"Nice to meet you, Natasha," he said. "We… we make a pretty good team."

  
"…Yeah," she said. "I guess we do."

  
"I guess you'll be leaving, then, with everything wrapped up," Clint sighed. "Maybe we can meet up, the next time the circus runs through town."

  
"I…"

  
Natasha glanced away, her ears lowering before lifting again.

  
"I don't really stick to any particular spot," she said. "Can't be too different, sticking around a bunch of Scrappers."

  
Clint purred. She did, too, a quiet thing rusty with disuse.

  
They'd work on it, he decided, until she could purr as loud as any other.

  
With somber but hopeful hearts, the duo stood and made their way to retrieve Thor's brother. The tom supported himself this time, leaning on them but moving his own paws along.

  
The three of them made their way back towards home, an old one for two of them, and a new one for the third.

  
A part of Clint remained behind with his brother, but he had a feeling the family he may have gained may prove to be more than his brother ever could have been. It was a feeling the coming years would prove, as the tom and she-cat grew closer.

  
One day, they'd tell stories of the time Clint made a different call than he was supposed to.

  
But for now, they only limped home.


End file.
